


You’re All Right

by PropShopHannah



Series: Throne of Glass prompts and asks [11]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Abuse, Angst, F/M, Feels, Periods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PropShopHannah/pseuds/PropShopHannah
Summary: Anon asked: Manon’s first period with Dorian. She bleeds through the sheets one night. Doesn’t know what to do, Dorian’s magic wakes him up cuz of her blood???





	

Dorian’s magic woke him in the middle of the night. It spiked and thrummed just beneath his skin.  _ Up, up, up, _ it seemed to say.  _ It’s the witch, wake the witch. _

Dorian turned over, scanning the room, Manon. Nothing was out of place. 

She fidgeted in the bed next to him. He moved closer, lighting one of the lamps on the bedside table with his magic.

Her brow was furrowed, and he could tell she was breathing heavily, panting. The thin white nightgown she worn clung to her chest, slicked by sweat that coated her skin.

“Witchling,” he whispered. He was pretty sure she was having a nightmare. He brushed back a strand of hair that was plastered to her face–

“ _ Please stop _ ,” she cried desperately, clawing through the sheets with her iron nails. He’d had enough.

“Manon, wake up,” he said. “Witchling, wake up.” Her eyes flew open, she sat up straight in the bed. An iron nailed hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand Dorian had on her shoulder, but he did not care. Her eyes were wild as she scanned him and the room.

She gasped and choked on her breath, and he cupped her face. He guided her chin toward him.

“It’s okay. It was just a dream.” She retracted her iron nails as her head and shoulders sunk down. Dorian pulled her to him. “You’re all right,” he said into her hair. He kissed the top of her head and hid his surprise when she leaned into him further, when she fisted her hand in his shirt.

She’d never done that before. Not once.

“Do you want to talk about it,” he said. She shook her head, kicking the covers off to cool herself. That’s when he saw it. Her blood.

He pulled the covers back and immediately began scanning her for where she’d cut herself with her iron nails. She seemed to notice at the same moment.

“You’re hurt,” he said, lighting every lamp in the room with his magic. She’d cut the inside of her thighs.

“Dorian, stop,” she said. “I’m all right.”

“You’ve cut yourself.”

“It’s just my cycle.” He stilled, looking at the evidence on her nightgown, her legs, the sheets…She pulled her nightgown down to cover the blood. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

If there were two words Manon Blackbeak never said together, it was ‘I’m’ and ‘sorry.’

Dorian watched her as she eased herself off the bed.

“Let me help you.”

“No,” she said far too quickly and without turning to look at him. “I’ve got it.” 

“Witchling,” he got off the bed, “you’ve nothing to be embarrassed about–”

“I’m not embarrassed.” Her voice broke. Dorian was in front of her less than a second later.

“Hey, what’s wrong,” he said.

“Nothing. Now move. I need to clean myself up.”

“Manon–”

“Move,” she snarled behind iron teeth. She’d never flashed her teeth at him like that… 

“What did you dream about?” She blinked. It was the only tell that he’d asked the right question. 

“Move,” she said. “ _ Please. _ I’m bleeding.” Dorian moved out of her way and watched her until she disappeared in the bathroom. He changed the sheets and turned off all the lamps, except for the ones on the nightstands. He went to her closet and pulled out a pair of button up pajamas and some underthings.

He knocked on the bathroom door.

“I brought you something to change into.” Using his magic, he enhanced his hearing. But all he heard was the splashing of water and the sound of a wet rag being run over skin. “Shall I leave them by the door?”

Nothing.

“I can warm the water for you. Or cool it.” He waited. She said nothing. He waited long enough to wonder if he should just walk in and hand her the clothes, but then he heard the rustle of cloth and careful feet across the floor.

She opened the door. She didn’t look at him, but she took the clothes. Then closed the door. He signed. He went back to the bed to wait. And wait. And wait.

Finally, she exited the bathroom. Dorian was sitting in bed. He watched her move across the room. She looked as if she were trying to make herself smaller.

She blew out the lamp on her side of the bed and then climbed in. She laid down with her back to him. He was silent for a moment.

“Manon–”

“Don’t.” He sighed heavily, then crossed the mattress to her.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m going to put my arms around you.” He did. At first, she was stiff and unmoving, but then–just as he suspected–she melted into him. He pulled her close. She let him.

“Are you in pain? Would you like me to–” she turned to him and buried her head in his chest. She’d never done that. “Witchling,” he said quietly, pulling her to fit more securely against him. “What happened? What did you dream about?” He kissed her head. 

They laid there for a moment.

“It’s stupid,” she whispered. He looked down at her.

“I doubt that.” She took a deep breath, then turned to lay on her back. He watched her in the dark, she stared at the ceiling.

“Do you remember, on the boat, when I was wounded, and I told you that I’d had enough bedmates to know what a mortal prince would like?”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t lying, not really, but,” she paused. “For as old as I am, the number should be higher.” Dorian was silent, but his breathing sped up. He didn’t like the thoughts that entered his mind.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“After I had my first bleeding, I was… my grandmother– _ gods, _ I feel so stupid telling you this.” Dorian turned on his side, pushing himself up on an elbow.

“Whatever it is, Manon. Please tell me. You can tell me.” He’d gone very still. His magic was quiet, as if it, too, were waiting to hear what she would say next.

“Whenever I’d sleep with someone, she could smell it on me. And then whenever I had my next cycle… she’d beat me. It got worse as I got older. Then one day, I just decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. And I just… stopped.”

Dorian stared at her in the dark. Trying to make sense of what she’d told him. What that meant.

“She wanted you to get pregnant.” It was not a question.

“She _ expected _ it.”

“Manon,” Dorian said with quiet ferocity, “ _ how far _ did she go.” Dorian felt as if his whole life hung on what she would say next. What she might tell him her grandmother had forced her to do.

“She didn’t make me to sleep with anyone,” she said quietly, “but I was expected to be sleeping with men.”

Men.  _ Men _ . He hated that word. Hated what she meant. Sure, she was a witch, an apex predator, but this had started when she was sixteen. She’d been  _ sixteen _ . Had tried to get pregnant at sixteen because  _ that bitch _ had made her feel guilty– _ had punished her _ –for not getting pregnant.

Dorian thought he was going to be sick. But he said, “That’s what your dream was about, being beaten?” _Please stop._ She’d said “please stop” in her sleep.

She looked over at him and nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry that happened to you.”  _ Fuck. _ He reached for her, and she crawled into his arms. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me.”

She was silent.

“Our first time on the boat,” he said after a few minutes. “How long had it been?” She fidgeted.

“Around ninety years, I think.”

“Did you have the nightmare because of me? Because you and I are here, together?” She shrugged.

“I used to get them once a month, as if in anticipation of the beatings. But after I’d gotten old enough, and strong enough to find excuses not to take bedmates, I didn’t get them anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, kissing her forehead. He didn’t know what else to say. What else to do.  _ Fuck. _

“It’s not your fault.” She looked up at him. And Dorian remembered how she’d pulled down her nightgown to cover the blood, as if–  

He sat up, pulling her with him. He faced her in the dim light.

“Manon, I don’t want you to think or feel as if you owe me children, or anything,” he said. “Your body belongs to you.” She smiled. 

“Thank you,” she said. “For listening, understanding.”

“Of course.” As they settled back into bed he added, “Are you...actively preventing a pregnancy?” She went rigid.

“Yes.” Her voice was small.

“Thank gods,” he said. She relaxed in his arms.

“I don’t know why I thought you’d be mad.”

“What?” He pulled back so that he could look at her. “Witchling, no.” She looked so small, so unsure. It was so at odds with every other time he’d seen her, so at odds with how he thought of her–what he knew about her. 

A piece of his heart cracked.

There was too much he still did not know about her. But this–this was a start. This was a beginning.

“Manon, no. I could never–why would even–” She touched his cheek.

“You’re crying,” she whispered. “For me.” He wiped his face, embarrassed.

“Yes. That you would ever think that I would force you to have children, or get mad that you were preventing it. I just…I can’t imagine how horrible that must have been.”

“It was a long time ago,” she said. He gave her a level look. She said, “I’m glad I told you.”

“I’m glad you told me, too,” he said, wrapping her back up in his arms. “I would be honored if one day you decided to give me children, but I would never force you. Never ask you to do something you weren’t ready for, or didn’t want. Honestly, I’d be happy to have you all to myself for the rest of our lives.”

“The rest of our lives?”  _ Oh, shit.  _ Now it was Dorian’s turn to go rigid.

“Only if you wanted that.” She smiled and nestled into his arms– _ actually _ nestled.

He wasn’t quite sure who this new Manon was. This woman who told him her secrets, who trusted him with her fears, who cuddled. He had no clue, but he was beginning to think that she might be the woman who emerged after the influence of the Matron had worn off. That she might be the woman Manon Blackbeak was supposed to be, had she been given a choice.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm PropShopHannah on Tumblr


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